


never meant

by geiszlcr



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geiszlcr/pseuds/geiszlcr
Summary: Newt is gone. Hermann wishes he wouldn't be.





	never meant

**Author's Note:**

> a oneshot, ft angst, no comfort! we love to suffer in this house!  
> written with newmann subtext, but this can be easily ignored for whatever reason (just know that was my intention)

Newt has been gone for almost four years, but in Dr. Hermann Gottlieb’s eyes, he could return at any moment. Still, it hasn’t made the past 32 months any easier. Although he’d never admit it, the lab is almost insufferably empty without his partner. When Newt left, he had tried to convince himself that he’d find the breathing room relaxing, and he did, for a couple of weeks. Now the air just feels stale.

In an attempt to fill the space that once held Newt with any semblance of the same feeling, Hermann has started to mold himself to fill both of their shoes at once. He tries to joke about Newt’s ratty tennis shoes, how they’re too small for anyone taller than 5’6”, he forces a chuckle. But when it comes down to it, Newt’s energy is just too large to recreate. He knows it’s not just the clutter that makes Newt’s personality seem so big; it’s something he can’t quite name. He doesn’t want to mimic it exactly anyway, even if he could. He’ll leave being Newton to Newton, whenever he comes back around. Hermann tells himself that it will happen soon, but the part of him that’s afraid of losing Newton forever is the same part that’s filled the lab with unorganized files and biological specimens he can’t stand to touch without hazmat suits and double-lined gloves.

It’s worth it, though, if it means he doesn’t have to hire anyone else to do the things that he would have usually just left to Newton. Sometimes he forgets that none of his new partners are Newt. In fact, most of them aren’t even  _ like _ Newt at all. Of course, Hermann treats them cordially and professionally through the course of working together, but he tries to limit the time he spends with other scientists in the lab. He misses the spontaneous energy of Dr. Geiszler, all the fascinations and fixations he just couldn’t seem to shut up about. Hermann doesn’t particularly care about Sid Vicious and Fender guitars, but it stings in his chest when he says their names incorrectly and he realizes the defensive correction he’s grown accustomed to isn’t coming. Besides, maybe one day he’ll speak ill of one of Newton’s favourite rock stars and the man will appear in the doorway with a sharp-tongued response. Hermann will pretend to be offended, and then they’ll go to his apartment to catch up over some cocktails and a hot meal, and Newt will be drawn in by the piano Hermann has placed in his parlour. He tells himself it’s not for Newton, but every time someone else plays a mediocre rendition of Chopsticks, he feels a tightness in his core and can’t bring himself to enjoy the music. Lately he’s been telling visitors that the piano needs to be tuned, or that it’s just for display, so he can let the keys gather dust. He’s thought about learning to play himself, but really the idea doesn’t appeal to him; he’s never been much of a music person. It changes too much, and Hermann has had quite enough of changes.

That being said, he wouldn’t be averse to changes that bring things back to normal, or at least back to Newton, however far from “normal” Hermann tries to convince himself that is. The truth of it is that everything he does to fill the space Newt left behind hurts, like pressing a bruise to convince himself it’s gone away. Hermann can’t stand most things Newton does, but to have someone else do them would feel like replacing him, and for reasons other than guilt that’s not something Hermann is ready to do. Newt is a ringing in his ears that won’t go away no matter how much silence Hermann tries to flush him out with.

Hermann will run a thumb over the photo on his desk, something Newt left behind when he left. Over the past few years, there have been times that he’s tortured himself worrying if leaving the picture behind wasn’t an accident at all. He’d really like to think it was a mistaken gift, a casual keepsake to remind him of his partner in the interim of his departure and return, but as each day draws to a close he can’t help but ask himself if Newt thought of him today, if he’s making plans to come back, if he’s just as lost as Hermann is. Dr. Gottlieb isn’t sure he can convince himself of it. On the days where the silence is too obvious, he has a habit of telling himself that leaving the picture behind was Newt’s way of saying goodbye. Days like this leave him with a pit in his stomach; he could swear he knows Newt better than this, that he would certainly at least leave a sticky note posted on his desk, but he’s misjudged him before. These days it seems all he’s done is misjudge him.

Bitterness isn’t really Hermann’s style, but he wouldn’t lie if someone were to ask him if he missed his partner. At least he would tell himself the truth, even if the words that came out were more of a condemnation of the man than anything. Sometimes the echoes in his head amount only to that truth, as much as he’d rather think nothing of it. He’s written a thousand letters apologizing for whatever he’s done to cause the disconnect between them, but he’s never sent them; he uses the excuse that he wouldn’t know where to send them anymore, but really it’s more that he’s not sure what to apologize for. He ends up apologizing for everything. Even the good things, even the things he’s proud of, even the things he loves about Newt, the things that drive him crazy to apologize for because it feels like being ashamed of the truest parts of his soul. It doesn’t matter, he’ll write it a million times over if it means he’s gotten it right, if it means he knows what he’s done wrong. It doesn’t matter, if it means he’s finally going to get closure.

Ultimately, he knows that the reason it doesn’t matter is because he ends up throwing them all in the trash. It feels dirty to put his only way to connect with Newt with scraps of lunch and latex gloves and used tissues. He justifies this to himself by saying that Newt has never really been known for his neatness in the past. He wouldn’t mind.

Simply put, he won’t go away, even though he went 985 days ago - not that Dr. Gottlieb has been counting.

But he has better things to do than press this bruise, pesky as it may be. He’s buried up to his neck in work, although admittedly that may be a product of his refusal to accept any help. He’ll let the thought it roll off his back, he won’t tell anyone that the weight on his shoulders from what doesn’t roll off as easily has been building up. He’ll sit there until he thinks his ribs might break, and then,  _ maybe  _ then, he’ll give Newton a ring, ask him to relieve some of the load. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t answer.

But that day is a long way away. Hermann pushes it as far away as he can reach, keeps pushing it back as soon as he notices it coming close again. He may be at times a foolish man, but he’s not a stupid man. He’s not a weak man. If there’s anything these past four years have taught him, it’s that he doesn’t need anyone, not really.

Then again, if there’s anything else they have taught him, it is that he does.


End file.
